


By Yon Bonnie Banks and Bonnie Braes

by lottielovebuzz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, English!Dean, M/M, Scottish Wars of Independence, Scottish!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lottielovebuzz/pseuds/lottielovebuzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas slides the arrow into his bow, locking the nock onto the worn and frayed string. A small crease appears between his eyes as he notices this, and he realises that he'll need to replace it soon; will need to replace it before the battle in two days. </p><p>He's not horrible with hand-to-hand combat, but he prefers using his bow. The last thing he needs is for his string to finally give in a snap, as he draws it back to fire. He'd be a goner. There would be no way for him to survive the battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Yon Bonnie Banks and Bonnie Braes

**Author's Note:**

> because [deanbunnies](http://deanbunnies.tumblr.com) kept talking about Scottish Warrior!Cas and ugh, I couldn't get it out my mind!!!

Cas slides the arrow into his bow, locking the nock onto the worn and frayed string. A small crease appears between his eyes as he notices this, and he realises that he'll need to replace it soon; will need to replace it before the battle in two days. 

He's not horrible with hand-to-hand combat, but he prefers using his bow. The last thing he needs is for his string to finally give in a snap, as he draws it back to fire. He'd be a goner. There would be no way for him to survive the battle. 

Castiel shakes his head, clearing his mind of those thoughts. He'll survive if he's alert, and besides, he's following William Wallace. The man is feared by the English and respected by the Scottish. His plan shouldn't fail. 

He draws back the arrow, his fingers gently brushing against the corner of his lips when his eyes narrow, and his posture isn't as relaxed as it used to be. 

Standing before him, dressed in chain mail with a heavy-looking sword in his hand is a man, he has no colours on him - nothing that tells Castiel whether he's Scottish, English, or hell, even Irish. 

' _De taobhaich dèan sigh sabaid our?_ ' Cas snarls, knowing that he'll get his answer as soon as the words are out of his mouth. 

He smirks to himself when the man's green eyes narrow in confusion, and Cas' hand clenches around the nock of his arrow. He may not wear any colours, but one look of confusion at the Gaelic that spills from Castiel's lips is more than the white and red that would cover his cloth. 

'Care to speak in English?' The Englishman retorts, a teasing grin on his lips as he takes a step closer towards Cas, who's fingers flex around the wood of his bow. 

'It's the tongue of my country.' Cas sneers, flicking his head as his long, black hair catches in the chilling wind that suddenly shoots through them. His hands are too occupied with his weapon that his kilt ends up ruffling with the wind, and he can feel the man's eyes widen before they dart away from his person altogether. 

And Cas is also fairly certain there's a blush on his lips. 

'You weren't at the Stirling Bridge, were you?' Castiel grins despite himself. If you were, you wouldn't have that look on your face, as you'd already have seen my cock.' 

'You're a good shooter.' The man says instead, taking a deep breath in as he turns his gaze back to Cas, and his suspicion is definitely confirmed. His cheeks are painted red. 'Better than some that are on the English side.' 

The more he speaks, the more Castiel can pick up a different twang in his voice. He's not one-hundred-percent English. He's got other blood in him, that's for certain. 

'How long have you been watching me?' 

It's the only question Castiel feel safe in asking. In fact… even then he's not sure he wanted to ask that question. How could he not notice someone watching him? It only took the man stepping out from his hiding place before he realised. What's wrong with him? 

'What's your name?' He adds as an afterthought as well. He doesn't like just killing a nameless man. He needs to know who he's threatening; who's heart he's planning on piercing with an arrow.

'I caught sight of you as you started setting up, followed you to fight you, but…' He trails off and his free hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. 'The name is Dean.' 

'So why didn't you fight?' His arm is getting tired, but he's not about to lower his weapon now. He's not about to lower his weapon period, to be honest. How can he trust an Englishman? He can't.

'You started shooting and, I got sidetracked. You purse your lips when you aim.' 

Cas frowns at that. He _does_ not purse his lips when he aims. He doesn't have any tells. That's what gives it away. He does _not_ purse his lips when aims. He does not. 

'What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back at camp, kissing your king's royal arse?' 

He expects Dean's jaw to clench; expects a snarl to pull at his lips. What he doesn't expect is for a small grin to pull at his lips - and God help him, Cas just doesn't notice how plump they actually are - and for a deep rumble of a chuckle to break free. 

'Have you never heard of a deserter?' Dean's grin widens, and he starts to move closer to Castiel, feeling heartened when Castiel's muscles don't clench, another tell that he's ready to loosen his grasp and fire the shot that would end Dean's life. 'Have you never heard of someone looking to give those bastards what they deserve, after they burnt that person's mother alive?' 

There's a fearsome growl in Dean's voice as the last words break free from his lips, and when the words process, Cas finds his arms relaxing and he lowers his bow and arrow. 

'The raid on Dumfries?' 

'Burnt my mother as she looked over my baby brother. My dad just managed to get him out, but my mother had no chance. They don't deserve this land; they don't deserve any land, and I want to help that come to pass.' Dean declares and when he is finally standing in front of Castiel, he extends his hand. 'And I'd like to do that by your side, Castiel.' 

And even though Cas finds it weird how he knows his name - wonders how long this man had _actually_ been watching him - he extends his hand, grasps ahold of Dean's and gives it a firm shake. 

'I'll be by your side, Dean.' He declares softly, bright blue eyes finally being able to study every freckle on his skin.

And even though Scotland lose the Battle of Falkirk, Dean and Cas stand side-by-side as they follow King Robert to victory, and the independence of Scotland.

**Author's Note:**

> enjoying this fic?? I'd love you forever if you bought me a coffee!! ko-fi.com/cahwrites


End file.
